


Playing House

by UbiquitousMixie



Category: The Closer
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 17:57:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UbiquitousMixie/pseuds/UbiquitousMixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dinner now. Dessert later.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing House

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imustgofirst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imustgofirst/gifts).



> I think I gave myself a cavity while writing this. Fluff warning, folks. Please let me know what you think! Comments are love. Enjoy!

Brenda wrestled her key from the lock, propping the door open with her hip as the strap of her oversized leather purse slipped from her shoulder and hooked onto her elbow. The bag was heavier than usual, its usual heft now bogged down by the numerous thick files she’d stuffed inside before leaving work. She allowed it to drop to the floor with a thunk, sliding it out of the way so that her path would be unobstructed as she entered the condo. She toed off her heels and, as the door quietly closed behind her, she gave herself a moment to close her eyes, wiggle her toes, roll her shoulders, and breathe. 

“Honey, I’m home!” she called, her cheeks flushing at the endearment. It was still new to her, and the novelty of it was not lost on her. 

“About time,” came the voice from the kitchen. 

Brenda smiled, reassured to hear that Sharon was still awake. “Work was a complete disaster today. This case we’re workin’ on is just a mess.” She shrugged her cardigan off while she spoke, hanging it from the hook by the door, enjoying the sight of her things residing beside Sharon’s. “I don’t know how they got by before I got there, but it’s a good thing they’ve got me to sort it out now. I had to bring some of it home with me though.” Brenda swept her frizzy blonde hair into a messy bun on her way to the kitchen. “Anyway, enough of all that.” 

“No work for at least an hour,” Sharon ordered sternly, and Brenda could tell from the tone in her voice that the captain meant business. 

“Yes, Captain…” Brenda Leigh’s response faltered on her tongue as soon as she caught sight of her girlfriend. 

Sharon Raydor was always radiantly beautiful, but she was never more effortlessly sexy than she was in her-- _their_ \--home. Nevertheless, Brenda couldn’t think of an occasion when Sharon looked sexier than she did right in that moment, hip cocked against the counter, clad only in a white t-shirt and black panties. Her brown hair was pulled back into a loose, low ponytail, and wisps of hair framed her bare, glowing face. Wide green eyes registered amusement behind the frames of her glasses. 

“Wow,” Brenda said finally, feeling breathless. “You look incredible.” 

Sharon’s cheeks flushed. “And you look overdressed.” 

“You’ve got a head start on me.” 

“I was home at an appropriate hour,” Sharon replied, her tone disapproving. 

Brenda crossed the kitchen, making her way to the other woman. She placed her hands on either side of her lover on the counter, imprisoning her in her arms. “I’m sorry I wasn’t home in time for dinner.” 

“So am I. I’ve grown accustomed to no longer eating alone.” 

“Oh, honey…” Brenda nuzzled her nose against Sharon’s cheek, brushing her lips gently against her jaw. “I’ll cook tomorrow to make up for it.” 

“It’s all right,” Sharon said, finally relaxing her rigid posture. “It’s unfair of me to expect you to work around the same schedule I do, especially since…” She stopped herself. 

“Especially since I’m a workaholic?” 

“You said it, not me.” 

“This is just a mess of a case,” the chief investigator began, “but once it’s over, I’ll be back to a somewhat normal routine.” She kissed Sharon’s ear and whispered, “Y’know, I never wanted to have a _normal_ routine before.” 

The brunette wound her arms around Brenda’s lithe waist. “I’m being silly. I just missed you.” 

“I missed _you_ …you have no idea.” 

“I might have _some_ idea.” Sharon stroked her hands across her lover’s back. “I like having you here.” 

“I like bein’ here.” She nudged Sharon’s nose with her own. “We’re disgustin’.” 

“Completely.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“Neither do I.” 

Brenda kissed her girlfriend then, softly, sweetly, reveling in the way the shapes of their mouths molded together. Her fingertips danced along the sliver of bare flesh between the hem of Sharon’s top and the elastic of her cotton briefs. 

The brunette hummed. “You should eat your dinner. There’s a plate in the microwave.” 

“I will…but how can I think about food when you’re temptin’ me like this?” 

“Dinner now. Dessert later.” 

The thought of food was admittedly less appealing than a scantily clad Sharon Raydor, but the rumble in her belly disagreed. “Fine,” she said. Stepping back, Brenda eyed the plate that rested atop the counter, upon which was a dollop of peanut butter and apple wedges. She let out a woeful moan. “Half-naked with _peanut butter_? Are you tryin’ to kill me, woman?” 

Sharon laughed, taking a wedge, scooping up some of the peanut butter, and offering it to the blonde. “Kill? No.” She grinned when Brenda took the proffered bite. “Taunt you with your favorite things in order to drive you crazy? Absolutely.” 

“At least there’s no chocolate…you haven’t brought out the big guns.” 

“Yet.” 

Brenda raised an eyebrow, unable and unwilling to stop the barrage of thoughts that crossed her mind, thoughts that involved a very naked Sharon covered in sticky, chocolatey deliciousness. “A woman after my own heart.” 

“I already have your heart,” Sharon reminded, popping a slice of apple into her mouth. 

Brenda cupped Sharon’s cheeks with her hands, feeling the way her jaw moved as she chewed. “I’ll say.” She kissed her again, the taste of the peanut butter strong on their tongues. It was enough to send tingles down her spine. “I can’t get enough of you,” the blonde added, drawing Sharon’s bottom lip between her teeth. 

The brunette hummed in agreement. "I opened up some Merlot if you'd like a glass," she added, pressing a kiss to Brenda's ear.

The blonde let out a happy sigh. "How lucky am I?"

"To have a beautiful, intelligent, highly patient partner like me? Pretty damn lucky."

Brenda could not refute that logic. Instead she allowed Sharon to guide their mouths into a slow, sensual kiss. The younger woman shivered, feeling the softness of Sharon's curves against her. Nothing else mattered--not the endless workday, not the hunger rumbling in her stomach, not the wine. Nothing mattered but that moment, kissing the woman she loved in their kitchen.

"You really should eat..." Sharon mentioned again, her fingers plucking impatiently at the blonde’s camisole.

"Can't I just eat you? I'm suddenly very eager to do unspeakable things to you with that peanut butter..."

Sharon chuckled throatily. "Soon." She patted her lover's hip. "Here--I'll heat it for you."

"No, no. You cooked. You just sit an' keep me company."

Sharon didn't sit, but she nodded and leaned back against the counter, giving Brenda space to move about the kitchen while she ate her snack. The blonde appreciated the conciliatory gesture--the more Sharon doted on her, the more Brenda Leigh continued to feel like a long-term houseguest. Partaking in these little acts, like warming up her own dinner and pouring her own wine and cleaning their bathroom and folding Sharon's underwear on laundry day, bespoke a shared domesticity that Brenda craved. She had never known she wanted this, not with the way Fritz had spoiled her. She had taken him for granted, and now that Brenda was certain that she was in a relationship with a partner who was far better suited for her, she was determined to avoid falling into that trap again. They hadn't yet perfected this routine, but Brenda felt better than she ever could have hoped. How had she gotten so lucky? How had she and Sharon come so far together, leaving behind animosity and finding _love_?

Her saccharine thoughts were bound to give Brenda a toothache, but when did she ever grant herself the chance to wax poetic about her own happiness? She was tempted to pinch herself, but she wouldn't risk it--she couldn't handle the possibility that Sharon wasn't actually hers, or that it could all be a dream.

The microwave beeped, pulling the chief investigator from her thoughts. She looked at Sharon, whose furrowed brow indicated that she had been observing Brenda's reverie. "Brenda?"

"I love you, Sharon."

Sharon blinked, clearly surprised by the sudden tender emotion in her lover's voice. "Oh Brenda Leigh, I love you too."

"You must think I'm insane."

"For loving me? That's obviously the sanest thing you've ever done."

"For practically burstin' with emotion."

"There's no need to burst," Sharon jested, licking juice from her thumb as she walked to her lover and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. "You have feelings, sweetheart. That's perfectly okay. I have them too."

"Yeah?"

The brunette chuckled. "Of course! As if I could have changed my mind in the last minute and a half."

Fully aware that she was being ridiculous, Brenda wrapped Sharon in a crushing hug, holding her so tightly that she couldn't differentiate her own heartbeat from Sharon's. For having spent much of her adult life focusing on facts and details and ardently avoiding her own spectrum of living, breathing, human emotion, when this feeling welled up within her, Brenda knew that couldn’t deny how strangely important it was. She had evolved--she was still Brenda Leigh Johnson, but she had fought hard for a life that was better. The feelings, as it turned out, weren't a sign of weakness--they proved that this life was a reality, not a dream.

It was all Brenda wanted.

The microwave beeped again, a reminder that her food was ready, and Brenda laughed as she pulled away. "Microwave's gettin' mad."

"You'd better eat. I hear there are unspeakable things awaiting me, and I’m not sure how long this patience of mine will last.” 

Brenda grinned, taking her plate out of the microwave. “Is that a threat or a promise, capt’n?” 

There was a twinkle in Sharon’s eye as she finished the last wedge of apple, putting her plate directly into the dishwasher. She took up the jar of peanut butter and smiled. “Perhaps it’s both.” 

As Sharon walked out of the kitchen, peanut butter tucked under one arm, Brenda unabashedly stared at her ass as she went. There was something to be said about playing house with Sharon Raydor—only this wasn’t a game, and Brenda couldn’t have been happier if she tried. 

\---


End file.
